


His Father's Heart

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Series: qui coepit in vobis opus bonum (Father Todd AU) [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fr. Todd AU, Gen, Jason Todd is a Priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: A priest must have a father's heart, and Fr. Todd has had a good example.Or, the one in which Jason is a priest and starts a school.
Series: qui coepit in vobis opus bonum (Father Todd AU) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/866103
Comments: 22
Kudos: 91





	His Father's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catie_writes_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/gifts).



> (Extremely) late bday present for @catie-does-things; hopefully enough epigraphs to make up for how late this is. 
> 
> We discussed Fr. Todd starting a school once, and I just ran with it. Takes places within her Fr. Todd AU obviously. 
> 
> (this fic is also how i learned there is no midnight Angelus but i really think there /ought/ to be)

_Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction...._

_-James 1:27_

_“Without confidence and love, there can be no true education. If you want to be loved…you must love yourselves, and make your children feel that you love them.”_

_“The school was not the end; it was rather the instrumental means for improving the way of life.”_

_-St. John Bosco_

  
  


The school that never was supposed to be started with three boys. 

Many would say it was Fr. Todd, who worked tirelessly for the crime, addiction, poverty ravished community he served. But Fr. Todd knew, and he knew God knew as well. 

The school started with three boys, huddling behind the dumpster in the alley adjacent to St. Maria Goretti Catholic Church. 

It was, when Fr. Todd reflected on it, the Hand of God, pushing them where they needed to be, beyond where they thought they ought to be. He was, after all, a diocosean priest, not of a teaching order, and kept plenty busy by the daily happenings of parish life. He had no room in his life for a school. 

He was, though, also very much his father’s son. 

And his father was not the kind of man to leave three, shivering boys in an alley because he was busy. Neither was the Lord, Jason reminded himself, who was in the least of these. 

So he squatted down beside them, enough of a distance they didn’t feel cornered but close enough that he was a presence. And said, “Good evening.”

They were clearly brothers, with the same almond eyes and thick black hair. Even the one whose was curly fit in the set. Hunger made their faces gaunt, but beneath it, if one knew how to look, one could see the same jawline, the same off center nose. 

The oldest one shifted to be in front of his brothers, glaring at Fr. Todd. “Go ‘way,” he said. “I know what you collar people do my momma told me and I say go way.”

Fr. Todd frowned, but kept his face and voice soft. “I promise,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. My momma warned me about dangerous men too.”

The boy continued to glare, not convinced. “I have food,” Fr. Todd offered, and the younger boys shifted behind him. Even the oldest betrayed himself with longing in his eyes, though he quickly masked it. “And a warm bed.”

The little ones were sold, but the oldest was smarter. He clearly wanted the food and the bed, but he didn’t trust a stranger. 

Smart enough, Jason thought. He himself hadn’t trusted Batman when they’d first met. 

Better the evil you know, right? 

Jason rocked back on his heels, thinking. “Stay here,” he told them. “I’ll be right back.”

He got up and quickly returned to the rectory. He called the Bishop, waking him up in the middle of the night. Jason, who had requested the exorcist more than any priest in the entire state, had earned that privilege. 

“Almost time for the Angelus,” he said cheerfully, before the bishop warned him about the optics of three boys staying in a priest’s rectory, then added a small lesson of what the Lord would do, contrary to the optics. 

He made a few sandwiches, snagged a couple of water bottles, dumped Fr. Dominic’s hot chocolate from the stove into a thermos, grabbed a blanket, pocketed his cellphone, and made his way back to the alley. 

He sat down, cross-legged, still enough distance the boys didn’t feel trapped. “Here’s the deal,” he said, handing out the sandwiches; the oldest boy didn’t stop the younger ones, but he still eyed the bread and meat in his hand like it was poisoned. “You can let me help you or I’m going to have to call someone else who can. 

“The cops?” asked the littlest one, and Jason nodded. “I can’t leave you out here. It’s going to drop below freezing tonight. I have a contact with GCPD, but I won’t lie to you, if we go that route, likely you’ll end up in a group home and the foster system, if they can’t find your mom or she isn’t able to take care of you.”

“She’s dead,” the oldest said abruptly. 

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. He knew what that was like, to find your mother dead, to have nobody else. After a pause, he added, “When my mom died, my adopted father caught me stealing the hubcaps off his car.”

The middle one laughed a little and Jason smiled at him. “It was pretty scary, but he turned out to be a good man. He’ll help you, too, if you let him.”

“We don’t _need_ help,” the oldest boy asserted. The sandwich seemed to give him strength and he glowered at Jason again. “I told you.”

“That’s not one of the choices,” Jason said. 

“Who’s your dad?” the middle one piped up. 

The older boy threw him a dirty look, but Jason answered, “Bruce Wayne.” 

The little one leaned forward, eyes wide, and whispered, “He knows Batman.” 

Jason whispered conspiratorially back, “So do I.”

That, more than anything, sold the younger two. Even the older, still wary, agreed to come back to the rectory with him.

Fr. Dominic was awake, grading papers at the table. He eyed the three small boys, smiled, and said, “I was so sure my hot chocolate went to a good cause and looks like I was right. Who do we have here?”

The oldest boy gave his younger brother’s a stern look, one that looked out of place on his young face, but they ignored him. The littlest piped up that his name was Joey and Liam was the middle and his biggest brother was Tucker. Dominic shook each of their hands solemnly, even Tucker’s, and then let Jason slip away to make a phone call.

Dominic was still awake when Bruce Wayne showed up in Lululemon joggers and a henley at the rectory and deposited a sleeping nephew into Jason’s arms.

“Since I’m a good Catholic and all,” Dominic said, “I won’t say there are too many kids. Just seems like a lot for a rectory at 1am.” 

“We’re night people,” Jason said apologetically, raising his eyebrows at Bruce.

“Dick’s sick,” Bruce explained as Johnny snuggled his head into the crook of Jason’s shoulder. “And Barbara’s out of town. I couldn’t get out of the Mansion without this one tagging along.”

He held up a bag and said, “It should be enough clothes for a couple of days. I swung through the store and got some toothbrushes too.”

“You’re a blessing,” Jason said, stepping back to let Bruce in. 

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement. Then muttered something about needing a throat blessing before he caught whatever illness Dick had come down with. It was, apparently, hitting him hard.

“St. Blaise’s Feast Day isn’t for a few months, but I think I know a guy who could hook you up,” Jason teased, shutting the door and following him towards the kitchen.

Dominic had gone ahead of them, and his grading had turned into discussing the religion test questions with the younger two boys while their brother watched from his place leaned against the counter.

Tucker eyed Jason and Bruce as they came into the room, and Tommy in Jason’s arms. “Who’s that?” he demanded.

“Nephew,” Jason told him. Jerked his head at Bruce as an introduction, but Bruce beat him to it, holding out a large hand and saying “Bruce Wayne.”

Tucker did not shake it, eyeing Bruce suspiciously. As Bruce dropped his hand, the kid said, abruptly, “My momma used to work for you. ‘Fore she got sick.”

It was the most he’d said after telling Jason to go away, and it was the type of thing Bruce would take personally.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t help her,” Bruce said after a moment. “I would like to help you now.”

When the boy didn’t answer, Jason gestured to the bag and said, “Bruce brought some clothes for you to change into after you clean up. You can take my room for the night, the bathroom’s attached.”

Tucker eyed them like he was waiting for the catch, but when none came, he abruptly moved away from the counter to usher Liam away from Dominic and snatch up Joey’s hand. He glared at the adults as he shut the door to Jason’s room behind them, as if daring any of them to try anything. 

“You were that defensive,” Bruce reminded him quietly, so that Dominic couldn’t hear. “When we first met.”

Jason knew. He’d been cocky and brash, but it had never really covered up the fact that he’d been a distrustful 11 year old who didn’t really know how to look out for himself. 

“I got ahold of Jim,” Bruce continued, louder. “Said he’d send a social worker in the morning but odds were in my favor of being able to foster while they sort it out.”

“Gordon can’t decide that,” Jason muttered, with a head shake, but the way Gotham rolled, the commissioner did have a lot of influence.

“Do you need me to stay?” Bruce asked. He glanced at Dominic, then took a step forward and settled his hand on Jason’s shoulder. 

Jason smiled at him. “I think I can survive on a couch for one night.”

“He slept on a cafeteria floor at last year’s high school retreat,” Dominic piped up. 

“Kid forgot his sleeping bag,” Jason said with a shrug, shifting his nephew’s weight. Johnny had crashed since getting here and was dead weight in Jason’s arms, drooling slightly on his shoulder. 

Jason caught Bruce’s eye, who smiled a little. They both knew Jason had slept on harder than a cafeteria floor before.

“I’ll come back in the morning,” Bruce said. 

Jason raised his eyebrows higher. “For Mass,” Bruce agreed. He paused, and added, “Alfred will send food I’m sure.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Dominic cheered quietly, raising a hand in victory. 

He rose to lay his hands on Bruce and Johnny with Jason, to offer them a blessing before they left.

“You know,” Dominic said thoughtfully, after they were gone, watching the closed door of Jason’s room, behind which the shower was still running, “those kids are smart. Think Bruce would enroll them at St. Xavier?”

Jason frowned. “It’s far from Wayne Manor. He’d do it, but I don’t know how the kids would like that commute.”

“Far from here too,” Dominic agreed. He yawned and stretched as if to prove his point. “Speaking of, I should get some sleep. Take my bed, I’ll take the couch.”

But Jason shook his head. “I want them to be able to find me if they need to.”

***************

It took a long time for the boys to settle in with Bruce as a foster; the younger two settled better They’d had to switch out of their public schools because they were not districted there anymore. They hadn’t been to school in a while anyway, Jason gathered. 

There was plenty of catching up for them to do, Dominic somehow found time to tutor them in between his own papers and gradings and other priestly duties. 

The boys, like the rest of Jason’s family, became a semi-permanent fixture at the rectory. 

***************

That was how it started. There was Dominic’s numerous mentions of St. Xavier being too far away, of the boys’ intelligence, the need for a more individualized approach that private school would afford.

There was the lady at the parish who sobbed to Fr. Todd one morning that she could not afford Catholic school and her district was not a good place for her children--no education, she said, just violence. She was scared they’d join a gang or start using drugs. St. Xaxier had scholarships to offer, but it wasn’t enough, and she had no way of getting her kids to school so far away. 

“St. Maria Goretti parish has always been in the thick of the throes of poverty,” Fr. Paul, the pastor, had said gravely when Jason had mentioned it to him later. 

There was the altar boy who tarried too long at the church after Mass, following Fr. Todd like a duckling, asking theological questions. He never wanted to go home and sometimes sat on the church steps doing math homework until Jason let him inside to pray. 

There was the 17-year-old drug dealer Officer Grayson picked up off the streets; Dick got him set up with a WE program but conditionally that he stop dealing and earn a high school degree, but going back to high school hadn’t put him in the best environment, and he was dealing again within the year. 

There was child after child, and family after family, who needed something more. 

***************

Cardinal Tolan was the one who first brought up the school. Fr. Paul was retiring, and Jason appointed pastor in his leave. 

“The Nashville Dominican sisters are looking in this area to open a school,” the cardinal said. “I think maybe St. Maria Goretti parish could be benefited by that.”

Jason nodded. “A boys school,” he said, as way of agreement. “We’ll need one for the girls as well. The Sisters will know what to do.” 

“We have a donor,” Cardinal Tolan added, thoughtfully. “I’m sure he has enough for two.”

“And boarding,” Jason said, thinking hard. “We’ll need housing for some of them. Students need to feel like it’s home.” 

Cardinal Tolan looked at him a long time, then said, “Truly, you have a heart after the Father’s.”

“I had a good example,” Jason replied, flushing a little. 

***************

It was another two years before the school was built. The sisters moved in, Fr. Todd was appointed chaplain, and the first year saw only 15 students from 9-12th grade, Tucker among them. 

He’d been the most resistant to Bruce and Fr. Todd over the years, though Jason accepted that he loved as best he could. His brothers adored them, more than Jason anticipated. They’d become altar boys at St. Maria Goretti’s as soon as they’d been able, and had cried when CPS had finally tracked down an aunt nearby to take them in.

They stayed in contact throughout the years. They continued in their service as altar boys, and had dinner at least twice a month with Bruce. Jason usually joined, when obligations allowed him. 

When the school opened, their aunt enrolled Tucker, the only one high school aged, right away. Full scholarship, she’d told a bewildered Jason, who knew the diocese hadn’t been able to set up any scholarships yet. 

Leave it to Bruce, he thought ruefully. 

***************

By the time the schools were ready to open younger grades, Joey and Liam were ready for high school, and they joined Tucker, now a senior, at Maria Goretti’s. The younger ones were still rambunctious, but Tucker had grown into a rather solemn young man. He frequently did his homework at Jason’s kitchen table, mouthing quietly to himself or asking Fr. Dominic to read over his papers, while the younger boys played sports or just waited for their aunt to be off work and pick them up. 

He graduated salutatorian with a full ride to Catholic University in DC. 

Jason, handing out diplomas at his graduation while the school secretary announced names, didn’t cry a bit when Tucker shook his hand, and then leaned in to whisper, “thank you.” 

He did look out and find Bruce, caught his gaze, and smile. 

Bruce understood.

***************

Two years later and new Masters degree to join the one he already had, Fr. Todd was appointed principal and chaplain of the school. He’d been involved from the start, as the parish pastor, but now he took even more responsibility. 

“Should’ve been a Salesian,” the cardinal teased, when he told Jason. 

Fr. Todd laughed and shook his head, “Maybe a Domican at that. But God saw fit to use a simple parish priest.” 

***************

Four years later, Tucker sat in his rectory, a month out from his college graduation. 

Bruce had been over for dinner but Tucker declined a ride home to his aunt’s. There had been something on his mind all night, Jason knew. He’d danced around the issue of a post-graduate career, awkwardly steered the conversation away from a Wayne Enterprise job waiting for him as soon as he said the word. 

It wasn’t until Bruce left, after exchanging a significant look with Jason, and Jason had poured them a rather heavy nightcap, that Tucker blurted out, cheeks flaming in embarrassment, “Will you wrote me a recommendation for seminary?” 

Fr. Todd lowered his glass and blinked at the boy in front of him. Now 22, Jason could still see the small defiant, malnourished boy that had huddled in his alleyway. Something like pride and warmth rose up in his chest. Had this been how Bruce felt, all those years ago, when Jason himself had given up the red hood for a white collar? 

After a long pause, Fr. Todd managed, “For here or for Mount St. Mary’s?”

Tucker looked up, surprised. “Here,” he said firmly. And still too much of a hooligan, finished what could have stayed unspoken, “obviously.”

Jason said, “Of course.”

He took a sip of his scotch, suddenly feeling the prick of tears at his eyes, and looking at the young man before him, remembered a little boy hiding behind a dumpster on a cold winter night, and then a little boy stealing hubcaps off the Batmobile, and then man God had sent him to save his life. 


End file.
